CHAPTER 477: WHERE IS PUMPKIN?

The royal park lay stretched out like a painting, its wide lawns still touched with the morning dew, the faint sound of birdsong threading through the air. Cottages lined the far end, stable-boys tending to the sleek horses that stamped and neighed, their coats gleaming in the light.

The royal carriages waited in perfect rows, lacquer polished to a gleam, gold trim catching the sun like fire.

Salviana’s gown brushed the cobblestones as she stepped carefully into their waiting carriage, Alaric steadying her with a hand at the small of her back.

Samion and Jaefel, the ever-loyal knights, took their posts like shadows on either side, armored boots ringing against the stone.

Manni, the broad-shouldered coachman, cracked the reins, and the team of horses surged forward in unison, hooves pounding with rhythmic power.

The ride was uneventful, almost too uneventful, as though silence itself had decided to follow them. Salviana’s gaze remained fixed on the passing scenery, but her heart was elsewhere—on Jean, on the strange absence, and on the gnawing unease that would not leave her.

Alaric noticed the crease in her brow, and without words, he reached across the velvet seat and laced his fingers through hers.

The carriage wheels crunched over gravel as the mansion finally came into view, rising stark and silent at the edge of the woods.

Lucius’s estate was beautiful but carried an unsettling air in the daylight. The black stone walls seemed to drink in the sunlight rather than reflect it, tall windows shuttered and lifeless. Not a single servant bustled about, not a single sound stirred from within.

"Strange," Salviana murmured, pressing closer to Alaric as her eyes swept the still grounds.

Even the birds avoided the estate.

Alaric’s expression darkened. "If Lucius were awake, he would not be wandering outside. And yet..." His voice lowered, sharpened. "This stillness is not natural."

With a subtle gesture, he signaled the knights and coachman.

"Samion, Jaefel, you remain with Manni. Guard the carriage. No one enters, no one leaves without my word."

"Yes, Your Highness," they responded as one, their voices clipped, ready.

Then, Alaric pushed the iron gate open himself, its hinges groaning in protest.

The sound echoed through the empty courtyard like a warning. Salviana’s grip tightened on his arm as they crossed the threshold together, their footsteps muffled against the stone path leading to the heavy mansion doors.

The air grew colder.

He paused at the door, head tilting slightly, listening. Nothing. Not a single heartbeat inside, not even the creak of old wood. Just silence.

Alaric’s jaw set, and with a tentative push, he swung the massive door open.

The darkness inside seemed to swallow the light whole.

"Stay close," he murmured, voice protective, as they stepped inside.

Inside was too quiet. Too still. The kind of silence that pressed against Salviana’s ears and made her skin prickle.

She gripped the folds of her gown carefully, each step cautious, her emerald eyes darting toward the heavy curtains and shadowed corners.

A sudden gust of cold wind swept through the room, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood.

Salviana’s heart stuttered in her chest. From the shadows, a tall figure materialized—dark-haired, dark-eyed, his presence sharp as a blade.

Lucius Drake.

Alaric did not flinch. The air around him sharpened, his stance solid as stone, though the faint scrunch of his brows betrayed his awareness.

"How are you, Lucius?" Alaric’s voice was even, deep, steady—meant to temper the crackling tension.

Lucius’s lips curled back in a growl, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "Why are you here?"

"Lucius, we missed you and—" Salviana began, her voice warm yet cautious.

But before she could finish, Lucius’s eyes flickered sharply toward the door as if expecting someone—then just as quickly snapped back to them.

"I was merely resting," Lucius said, his voice low, bitter, heavy with exhaustion. "The journey wasn’t good for me. I am a normal vampire, after all."

Alaric exhaled through his nose, almost weary. "We could sit. You appeared almost sick when we returned."

Lucius’s laugh was brittle, humorless. "I was sick—and tired. You forget, Alaric. You must be royal even among our kind to return from such travels unscathed." His jaw tightened, his bitterness coiling into every word. "We need to find out why... anyway." He stepped back, as if granting them entry.

Salviana, refusing to let the conversation slip too far into icy tension, tilted her chin. "Lucius, is Jean also resting upstairs?"

The vampire’s eyes narrowed sharply. "What?"

"We are here for you and Jeanie," Salviana pressed, her voice soft yet firm.

Lucius’s expression faltered, the shadows in his gaze deepening. "Pumpkin is not here," he said at last, his voice too clipped, too defensive.

Salviana’s stomach tightened. Alaric’s eyes hardened.

"But... she’s not at the castle either," Salviana said carefully.

Lucius froze. Slowly, deliberately, he straightened, his tall frame taut as a bowstring.

His skin looked paler than usual, his cheekbones hollow with strain. His dark eyes, wide now, gleamed with something that bordered on panic.

"What are you saying?" His voice was sharp, trembling with something uncharacteristic—fear. "Where is Pumpkin?!"

The words hung in the air like a curse.

Pumpkin is not here.

Salviana felt her breath snag in her throat as the room seemed to shrink. Lucius stood motionless, his face pale and stiff as stone, but his eyes—those dark, burning eyes—were wild with dawning horror.

Then, without warning, he jerked, his boots scraping sharply against the stone floor.

"No." His voice was low, jagged. Then louder, rawer, almost a roar: "No! She can’t be gone—she wouldn’t just vanish!"

He spun, his cloak flaring like the sweep of a raven’s wing, his body coiled with frantic energy. In the next instant, he was striding toward the door, his hand already wrenching at the handle.

"Lucius, wait—" Salviana called after him, but it was useless. His desperation was deafening.

"She’s my Pumpkin!" His voice cracked as he shoved the door open. "I have to find her—I have to! Every moment wasted is one more where she could be in danger!"